


Light Shed

by Akamaimom



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-04-24 01:28:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4900324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akamaimom/pseuds/Akamaimom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They've got three weeks to spend in a Palace by the sea, overcoming their addiction to The Light. But barriers break down, and Sam and Jack are confronted by vestiges of their past - attractions they'd thought they'd built walls around. They were wrong. Written for tumblr MOS challenge prompt "Lost File".</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**_Light Shed_ **

**_Part One_ **

_Someone on Gateworld mentioned that there weren’t a lot of fics that dealt with the time that SG-1 spent on the planet after becoming addicted to “The Light”. At around the same time, the tumblr MOS challenge was announced with a prompt of “Lost File”._

_So, naturally, I thought, “Hey! Two birds! One stone!”_

_Well, little did I know that this thing would grow as it has. I fretted and worried and edited this until finally, the other day, I had to admit that what I was writing wasn’t a story, but an episode. Since I don’t have the ability to actually film this, well, it’s remaining a fic. So, I hope it makes sense, and furthermore, I hope that you all like it._

\-------OOOOOOOO-------

_It had to have been a dream._

_Heated pleasure, gentle joy, and the sweet relief of release._

_Please, she prayed, let it have been a dream._

 

 

\-------OOOOOOOO-------

 

 

"So." He'd stood next to the last load of supplies, fingers braced on his hips. "We're stuck here."

 

"For at least a few weeks." Glancing up at the Colonel, Sam paused in her catalog of the boxes. "It looks like we'll be eating well, at least."

 

O'Neill snorted. "If you call MREs 'eating well'."

 

"If you're going to be picky, it'll seem like longer, Sir." Sam rose, clicking her pen closed and stowing it in the breast pocket of her overblouse. "Besides, the General said he'd send through supplemental and fresh foods as well. And hey - maybe you could catch some fish for us."

 

He'd already found the rod and line. "That's definitely on the docket."

 

"I'll be spending my time studying the writing on these pillars." Daniel snapped a new cassette into his video camera. "General Hammond sent me enough tape to record the entire place."

 

"You really know how to kick back, don't you, Daniel?" Jack grinned. "Vacationing with you must be a blast."

 

"I'm not sure." Daniel smiled ruefully. "I've never really taken one."

 

Sighing, Jack looked around. "Well, we might as well make the best of it. Loran?"

 

"Yes, Jack?" The young man straightened. He'd been observing them quietly, leaning against a pillar near the back of the room where the 'Gate stood.

 

"Personal quarters are where, exactly?"

 

"If you mean bed chambers, they're all down the corridor where my room is. The other side of the Palace is mostly storage areas, and common rooms."

 

Sam leaned slightly against the boxes at her side. "Where's the kitchen?"

 

Loran pointed towards the rooms on the opposite side of the Palace. "Over there."

 

"Okay, then." The Colonel grabbed a box. "Let's get settled in, people."

 

 

\------OOOOOOO-------

 

 

 

They'd chosen rooms, delegated duties. With as long as they'd been together, the team knew the needs and the strengths of each other during extended missions. Sam had chosen the bedchamber closest to the bathroom facilities, the Colonel the room next door - mostly because it had a door that led out onto a patio of sorts that opened directly onto the beach.  Teal'c's and Daniel's rooms flanked Loran's, chosen for sleeping arrangements and available seating space. Since Teal'c had no use for the larger of the two beds, he claimed the room with the smaller one, then handily moved it to allow a larger area for kelnorim.

 

It had only taken an hour or so to organize the supplies and unpack, and a single planning session to figure out the best way to take in their dosages in the Light room. Sam had utilized the first full day in the Palace to rig a timing device that interfaced with the podium to turn off the device automatically - a necessary precaution given their common addiction. Only two people were allowed in the Light room at a time, with alarms set on their watches as a failsafe in case Sam's timer somehow malfunctioned.

 

They'd all brought things to do to occupy their time during detox. Sam had been working on a presentation she'd been asked by a former professor to make at the Academy. She'd found a large table in one of the common rooms and staked her claim, spreading charts and books and papers out in academic abandon as she collected the information she wanted to pass on to the students.

 

Daniel's main focus was recording and interpreting the writings on the pillars of the Palace. A rough translation had proven interesting enough for him to draft Loran and Teal'c into the work, as well, and the three of them had become a valuable partnership. Loran's parents had started figuring the language before they'd succumbed to the Light, and he'd listened. He was a bright kid, if a little immature, and Daniel's patient demeanor had allowed the young man's confidence to flourish. Teal'c had offered more than mere translation. He'd helped identify different dialectal differences between sections of writing, indicating the basic era and group responsible for the decorations.

 

And the Colonel. Sam sighed, reaching for a pencil and the pad of sticky notes she'd been using to mark pertinent pages. The Colonel had taken up residence in her improvised office, his dream of spending his days fishing dashed by the constant, unrelenting storm that had been raging outside for more than a week.

 

He'd taken to whining. He was good at it.

 

"I can't believe the kid didn't tell us about the weather here."

 

Sam had been practicing her 'Mom' voice. "And what, exactly would we have done about it?"

 

"I don't know." O'Neill had been rolling a pen back and forth on the table for the better part of an hour, bumping the instrument between his palms. "Brought a Playstation?"

 

"No TV."

 

"Brought a TV?"

 

"No electrical outlets, let alone the proper current."

 

"Naquadah generator?"

 

"Sir, I'm not going to utilize powerful and rare resources just so you can play Super Mario Brothers."

 

He frowned. "That's Nintendo, Carter."

 

"Sir, I'm not going to utilize powerful and rare resources just so you can play Doom."

 

He thwacked the pen off the end of the table. "Damn."

 

Sam finished jotting a cross-reference on the note and stuck it on the margin of the coordinating page. "You could always go get dinner started."

 

He straightened, rounding the table towards her side. Stopping next to her, he exhaled a dramatic groan, shoving his hands into his pockets. "What's on the menu?"

 

"I'm not sure." She tapped the eraser of her pencil against the pad of Post-its, making a quick perusal of the materials spread out on the table. "That's why we posted a list in the kitchen - so we wouldn't have to remember."

 

Leaning into her, he nudged her shoulder with his own. "I want pizza."

 

"There isn't any, Sir."

 

"You could make some."

 

Sam snorted, turning her head to focus on the man at her side. "Who do I look like, Papa John?"

 

"Of course not." The dimples deepened in his cheeks as he grinned. "You're a girl."

 

"Sir." Rolling her eyes, Sam sighed heavily. "I don't know how you expect me to get anything accomplished."

 

"Well, duh." He nudged her again, his whole body colliding with hers - shoulder and hip and thigh. "I'm trying to distract you, Carter. You're the smarty-pants. I thought you'd have figured that out by now."

 

"And if I don't want to be distracted?" Somehow, their bodies had remained in contact, comfortably sharing heat and space - as if remembering past times when they'd been drawn this closely together. When it had been allowed. She looked over at him, near enough to see the tiny hairs that had grown since his morning shave. Her fingers twitched, knowing what his beard had felt like against her palm. Against her cheek. "What then?"

 

“Well, you’ll lose.” He winked at her. "I know your greatest weakness."

 

Heaven help her, she'd been sucked into his ridiculousness. "Everyone knows my weakness. It's chocolate."

 

"Nope." He perused her with a leisure that she was fairly certain he wouldn't have shown back at the SGC. Waggling his eyebrows, he poked her in the arm, then turned and headed towards the arched entryway.

 

"Okay, then. Mint Chocolate Chip ice cream."

 

"Not even close."

 

"Sir?"

 

He was halfway down the hall before he answered. "Figure it out, Major!"

 

 

\-------OOOOOOOOOO-------

 

 

 

"Did you figure it out yet?"

 

She'd been working all morning, filling in the outline she'd created during the previous days. Color-coded index cards had replaced her sticky notes. The Colonel had been stealing them while she'd been checking her references, switching them with cards belonging in other parts of her lecture.

 

"Figure what out?"

 

"What we talked about the other day."

 

"Ummm – The pizza thing?"

 

"No."

 

"Fishing?"

 

"Sadly, no." He grimaced. "Still no joy on that front."

 

She snatched the green index card he'd been trying to hide and placed it back with its index card buddies on the far side of the table. Considering, she switched two different cards around, then straightened, staring down at the new order of her notes. "I'm sorry, Sir. I'm a little lost."

 

"I'm talking about your weakness."

 

The urge to groan and roll her eyes hit her again, this time with enough force that she actually did it. "Sir - I really am trying to concentrate on this."

 

O'Neill reached forward and grabbed the two cards she'd switched, placing them back how they'd been in the first place. "You were right in the first place. It reads better like this. It's a more gradual and effective rise in logic towards your ultimate thesis."

 

She sighed again. It was becoming a habit – like a tic that wouldn't abate as long as _he_ kept inserting himself into her existence. Sam placed her hands on her hips and watched as the Colonel twizzled at the cards before standing upright.

 

Flipping back the glare guard on his watch, he pursed his lips dramatically before tossing a look her way. "Well, look at that. It's my turn in Paradise."

 

 

\----OOOOOOOO-----

 

 

"Dangling participle."

 

"Excuse me?"

 

"Here." He pointed at sentence on one of the pages of her mostly-final copy. "You've got a dangling participle."

 

Sam glared down at where his finger had parked itself on the page. With a little sigh, she read out loud. "'Working under the philosophy that something could be in two states at the same time, the quandary of the cat in the box was formed.'"

 

"Like I said, dangling participle."

 

"It makes perfect sense."

 

"Not so much. You need to have some sort of reference as to whom was working under the philosophy. I know who it was, and you know who it was, but will the hot-shot students you'll be lecturing know who it was?"

 

"Sir - "

 

"Here." He grabbed the paper and a pencil, quickly scribbling in the margin. When he was done, he held up the paper and cleared his throat. "'Working under the theory that something could both live and not live in the same instant, Schroedinger formed the quandary of the cat in the poison-filled box.'"

 

"Schroedinger, Sir?"

 

"Yeah." He looked at her for a moment before handing her the paper. "He's the sicko who poisoned the cat, right?"

 

"Well, yeah. But - "

 

"And now we've eliminated his dangling participle. You've also misspelled 'formula' and 'mechanics'." He pointed again. "See? Here and here."

 

Sam glared at him. "Once I get back to the SGC, I'll type all this into the computer, and my friend named 'Spellcheck' will take over from there."

 

"Naturally."

 

"What's that supposed to mean?"

 

"Science majors and Business majors." He sniffed. "I worked in the tutoring center on campus briefly. Science and Business majors had - hands down - the worst grammatical skills of any group."

 

"So?"

 

"So, Spellcheck was _their_ friend, too."

 

Sam managed to keep her voice calm. Kind of. "I'll have you know that I aced my English classes in college."

 

"I'm sure you did." He pointed at another section of paper. "And yet you have a split infinitive there, you don't need an apostrophe in that 'its', and this is an incomplete sentence."

 

"It is not."

 

"Is too." He read out loud. "'Easy seemed unlikely'."

 

"I just forgot a word. It's supposed to say, 'Easy explanations seemed unlikely'."

 

"So, it _was_ an incomplete sentence." He scanned further. "And here's a misplaced modifier. 'Scientists were in custody of the answer'."

 

She couldn't answer him past the other - ruder - words gathering in her throat.

 

He didn't seem to notice, because he continued. "A more proper way of saying that would be, 'Scientists were in possession of the answer', but even that sounds awkward."

 

Her voice came out somewhat terser than she'd intended. "It's called a 'rough draft' for a reason, Sir."

 

Oh, that grin. Both lecherous and innocent at the same time. How he accomplished that was a mystery. "Well, boy howdy, Doctor Carter, I didn't know you liked it quite _that_ rough."

 

Sam's right eye narrowed. And then it twitched. And then, apparently, Jack decided that it was time for him to go, because he made a bee-line for the door without another word.

 

 

\-------OOOOOOOO-------

 

 

"So, are you feeling improvement?"

 

Sam glanced up, surprised to see Loran standing near her. He seemed unsure, awkwardly turning himself halfway back towards the ‘Gate room, as if preparing to flee. In the week and a half they'd been there, it was the first time he'd approached her.

 

He took her pause as an opportunity to clarify. “From the effects of the light. Are you feeling improved?”

 

"Yes, thank you." She grinned up at him, indicating the bench next to her. "Want to join me?"

 

"I don't want to bother you."

 

"It's no bother." She raised a brow in a gentle invitation. "I wouldn't mind the company, to tell you the truth. You and I haven't had an opportunity to get to know each other very well."

 

"I've been helping Daniel with his translations."

 

Nodding, Sam leaned back against the upholstered backrest. She’d found this room several days before. The room was set away from the other common areas, equipped with thickly padded benches and coordinating individual footrests all arranged along a low, wide expanse of windows which faced the sea. Quiet, cool, it was a nice place to go and think for a while. Loran was the first of the guys to find her here. "He says you've been a real asset to his work."

 

"I like it. It's interesting."

 

"Maybe you can continue your studies once we get back to Earth."

 

He didn't answer, merely throwing a look back over his shoulder at the hallway behind him.

 

"Are you supposed to be helping him now?"

 

"Daniel is taking his turn in the light room right now." Loran took a hesitant step towards her. "Teal'c is meditating."

 

"Kelnorim." Sam provided. "That's the actual term for it."

 

"Kelnorim." The young man tried out the word softly, nodding when he'd figured it out. "Anyway, I came out here looking for Jack."

 

Sam reached out and moved a cushion, providing a place for Loran to sit. "He's at the 'Gate making his report to the General."

 

"Oh." Slowly, Loran lowered himself to sit next to her on the bench. "I didn't know. When I saw you out here, I thought he must be somewhere nearby."

 

She frowned, casting him a questioning look. "Why did you think that?"

 

"Because you're usually together."

 

Sam felt herself stall. She'd been hoping that they hadn't been that obvious. In fact, she'd only truly noticed it the night before, while they'd been preparing the evening meal. She and the Colonel had always been in tune with each other, but with recent events - armbands and confessions, not to forget the time they'd spent under the ice city – their connection had only grown more profound.

 

They'd been standing together at the table in the kitchen, preparing a salad from the produce Hammond had sent through the 'Gate. O'Neill had washed the vegetables and handed them to her. She'd cored and peeled as he'd cut and diced. They'd handed knives and tomatoes and greens back and forth as if in the throes of some ancient, intimate dance.

 

Wordless, efficient, and easy. 

 

Naturally, Daniel had noticed. "Geez. It's like you two are an old married couple."

 

Jack had been reaching around her to grab the head of lettuce, close enough that his whole body had been in contact with hers, his belt buckle hard against her hip. His breath had stirred the hair near her ear as he'd answered. "What?"

 

"Look at you. You don't even have to talk to communicate." Daniel's brows had flown high. "It's like you share a brain cell."

 

"Just the one?" O'Neill's tone had been dismissive. But he'd taken a step backward, anyway, careful not to touch her again as he'd moved around her. His shrewd eyes had taken in her expression, though, reading her stillness. He'd known how close to home Daniel's words had hit her. Sensed what she was feeling.

 

"You know what I mean." Daniel frowned, returning his attention back downward, where his video camera's battery compartment sat open. He grabbed a Q-tip and started cleaning gunk out of the housing where a battery had leaked. "I guess it just goes to show how long you've been working together."

 

"You and I have been working together longer, Daniel."

 

"Right - but you and I aren't in tune like this." Daniel picked up a screwdriver and started working on a particularly stubborn bit of crap inside the housing. "In fact, you usually end up arguing with me about every little step of - like - _everything_. Sam doesn't do that to you. You two are totally in sync."

 

Sam had pressed her lips together, placing the knife down on their improvised cutting board. Stretching her fingers, she flattened them on the board, trying to control their tremble.

 

"Yeah." O'Neill had nodded. "I know."

 

Whether he was answering Daniel's observation or acknowledging Sam's falter, she couldn't have told. Still, he'd given her a long moment before he'd nudged her with his shoulder and said, "Come on, Carter. You're holding up the works."

 

She'd fled as soon as the meal had been eaten, hoping nobody else had noticed how she'd pushed the food around on her plate, too preoccupied to eat. To be perfectly honest, until that moment, she'd been enjoying their time on the planet – despite (or perhaps because of?) the Colonel’s meddling in her work. She'd obviously gotten complacent, though, losing sight of the perspective she’d thought she'd found since their time under the ice. It had been too easy during the past weeks to fall back into the kind of behavior that became complicated. The kind that had allowed her to do what - play house? Pretend?

 

Remember what it been like to _be_ with him.

 

Certainly, they’d become too close again, too familiar, breaking down the sketchy re-constructed barriers that had previously been blasted away by mind stamps and za'tarc detectors. She hadn't even realized that they were doing it again until that moment, when Daniel had seen what was happening and had pointed it out.

 

And now Loran, too.

 

Sam looked down at where her boots seemed worn and crude propped upon the elegant tufted ottoman. Delving deep, she found a careful tone before tossing a glance back at their new friend. "We've been working together for a long time."

 

The young man’s smile seemed poignant. "You remind me of my parents. They always enjoyed each other’s company, too. They hated to do things without the other."

 

She thought about that for a moment. "I don't think that the Colonel and I are that bad."

 

"Bad?" Loran frowned. "How is that bad? They taught me that was how it should be. When you choose someone - you should always want to be with that person. You should yearn after them. That's what my parents used to say - that they yearned for each other."

 

She let out a tiny laugh. "That's sweet, Loran. It must be wonderful to have those memories of your parents. But it's not how Colonel O'Neill and I feel about one another."

 

He stared at her for a long uncomfortable moment before mirroring her pose, stretching his gangly legs out onto the stool in front of him. "It seems like it."

 

"Maybe that's just because you don't understand our ways."

 

"Maybe." Shrugging, Loran stared through the bank of windows into the stormy green of the ocean. "It seems that are a lot of things that I don't understand."

 

Sam watched him out of the corner of her eye, at how the youth's shoulders slumped, his face looking crestfallen. "You'll get there, Loran. Figuring things out is tough at your age. Being a teenager is one of most challenging times of life."

 

"Yeah. Maybe." He met her gaze, his eyes holding more wisdom than she'd thought possible in a kid his age. "Although sometimes it seems like I've already lived a whole lifetime. Born and lived and died, you know? And now I'm just waiting for the next life to start."

 

"And it will. When we get back to Earth."

 

He smiled, the expression carrying just a hint of skepticism along with his customary optimism. "You're probably right."

 

“You’ll be okay, Loran.”

 

“And you’ll teach me?”

 

“We’ll all help.” She reached out and touched his arm. “With whatever you need.”

 

Abruptly, he stood, giving her another gentle smile. “I’d better get back to Daniel. He’ll be done in the Light by now.” And with a spare nod, he walked away.

 

 

 

\-------OOOOOOOO-------

 

 

She'd been indoors too long. Stretching, Sam rose from her chair and made her way out of her office and into the hallway. It was quiet - abnormally so, even for only five people in the huge building. She took a few steps towards the kitchen area, but a quick glance into the room proved it to be empty. Curious, she walked back down towards her office, and then past it, continuing beyond the Light room and into the large chamber holding the 'Gate.

 

Empty.

 

"Daniel?" Nothing.

 

"Teal'c?" She paused, listening. "Colonel?"

 

Silence. Frowning, Sam walked down into the hallway where their private quarters lay, but was met with still more quiet. Backtracking, she went back through the 'Gate chamber and out the opposite door, to where another large room looked out over the ocean.

 

For the first time in nearly two weeks, sunlight blazed in through the wide expanse of windows on the far wall. Beyond the windows, the ocean had started to clear, the waves dancing rather than raging. The shoreline was littered with debris and the odd bluish seaweed prevalent on the planet, but the sand had already started to dry into white dunes, and blue, bright sky peeped out from increasingly large holes in the clouds.

 

The storm had finally abated.

 

Turning right, Sam quickened her pace towards the door at the end of the long room, pushing it open and stepping out into the clear air. She hadn't realized how stuffy the palace had grown while they'd been stuck inside. She inhaled deeply, and then coughed a little at the salty, dank smell of the ocean. Grinning at her own foolishness, she hurried around the tiled pathway towards the dunes.

 

She'd forgotten about the huge stone sphinx-like things that stretched out like guardians along the shore line. The first one sat a few hundred feet behind the Palace. Sometime long ago, the head had become detached from the rest of the body, and it still lay there in the sand, on its side, its eyes half-buried in the dune, like some kind of eerie warning. Further down the beach, the other creatures stood stalwart against the winds and waves, beautiful, in their own way.

 

From the sandy expanse between the Palace and the broken statue came shouts and laughter. Sam watched for a moment as her friends emerged from around the second of the sculptures, sand kicking out from their feet as they ran. Someone had unearthed a ball of sorts from somewhere, and they were hurling it back and forth at each other across the sand.

 

Teal'c to Loran, Loran to Daniel, and then Daniel reached back and threw an admirable pass to the Colonel. O'Neill took several steps backwards and chucked the ball back to Loran, who missed it. The ball took a nasty bounce off a half-buried log, and rolled a stop a few feet from where Sam had stopped to watch.

 

"Sam!" Daniel waved at her, then pointed at the toy. "Throw it here!"

 

Smiling, Sam bent and picked it up. Instead of throwing it, she tucked it in her elbow and stepped off the walkway, slogging down the sand towards her team. "Can I join in?"

 

Jogging in her direction, Daniel grinned. "We thought you were still working."

 

"I needed a break."

 

"We were just tossing it around, but we could make a real game of it."

 

Sam glanced down at the ball in her hand. It was multi-colored, mostly round, although elongated - about the size and shape of a rugby ball. "Football?"

 

The Colonel hustled over. "Football? Are we putting a real game together?"

 

"Sure." Daniel grinned, holding his hand out to Sam, who tossed the ball to him. "Me and Jack against you and Teal'c and Loran."

 

"Sounds fair." O'Neill took a few steps backwards as Sam and Daniel started towards the sandy expanse upon which they'd been playing. "Touch or tackle?"

 

"You're old, Jack." Daniel snorted. "Better stick with touch."

 

It took a few moments to mark of boundaries and explain the basics of the game to Loran. A rousing game of "Rock, Paper, Scissors" determined that Jack and Daniel would possess the ball first. They started with an easy lateral pass and an attempt at a run towards the goal, but Teal'c simply reached out and tagged Daniel, ending the play.

 

Daniel passed to Jack next, and then the younger man took off through the defensive line, blazing past Loran just in time to pivot and receive Jack's high pass. Turning towards the goal, though, he stumbled in the soft sand and Sam had time to reach him and smack him on the back, killing the ball.

 

They spotted the ball at the point of the touch, and both teams regrouped for a confab. This time, it was agreed that Sam would defend the receiver, and Teal'c and Loran would rush the passer. Jack and Daniel had formulated a running play, though, involving another sneaky lateral pass and a path that took Jack around Teal'c and across the line for six points.

 

Sam and her team made a touchdown in the very next play. Acting as quarterback, Sam retreated for a few steps and then hurled a bullet all the way down the field towards Loran, who jumped easily in the air and snatched the ball mid-spiral in both hands, tumbling over the line to score.

 

"Hold up!" Jack raised both hands in the air. "Gotta get my game on, here." He shunted off his over-blouse and then bent to unlace his boots. Once barefoot, he loped up towards the walkway, depositing the clothing on a small retaining wall before heading back into the field.

 

Set up again, Jack retreated at the hike, then hard-lined it towards the beach, running around Sam on his way towards the goal line. Halfway there, Loran reached out for the tag, but the Colonel hucked the ball sideways towards Daniel just in time. Sam was there first, though, making the interception. Jack parried, twisting in the sand until he'd reversed direction, launching himself towards her. She dodged, but his height won out, and he ended up grabbing her shirt and taking her down.

 

Flat on her back in the dune, she cradled the ball close as she kicked some loose sand at the Colonel with a smile. "Hey! This isn't tackle, Sir."

 

"Sorry!" He braced himself up on his elbows. "That was an accident."

 

She stared at him speculatively. "Right."

 

"Promise." Pushing upright, he leaned down, offering a hand to Sam. "Come on. It's your ball."

 

She took his hand, accepting his help gratefully. Handing him the ball, she unbuttoned her bulky shirt, taking a few steps towards where he'd thrown his boots. Within moments, she'd shrugged out of her outer layer, and tugged off her boots and socks. Passing Jack on the way back to the 'field', she reached out and took the ball back from the Colonel with a friendly, "Bring it."

 

Forty-five minutes later, they were all barefoot, all in tees rather than the heavier over-shirts, and Daniel had pulled his handkerchief out and tied it around his head. After Teal'c had made his way down the field to score, he'd tossed the ball back to Jack.

 

O'Neill squinted into the sun. "So, we're tied at twenty-four."

 

"We are not." Teal'c swiped at some sand on his arm. "We currently have twenty-four points, whereas you and Daniel only have eighteen."

 

"No." Daniel shook his head, reseating his glasses on his nose. "We had more than that, didn't we, Jack?"

 

"You missed that last pass." Sam threw a gesture over her shoulder towards the opposite goal line as she switched her attention from Daniel to the Colonel. "You were already down before you secured the ball."

 

Jack's chin dropped in offense. "I was _totally_ in possession of the ball before my knees touched down."

 

"You were not." Teal'c intoned. "Major Carter is correct."

 

"I saw you." Loran spoke from his position behind Teal'c. "You dropped it on the way down, too."

 

"I did not." O'Neill glared at Carter.

 

"Did too." Brow rising, she glared back.

 

"Prove it."

 

Groaning, Sam shook her head. "I shouldn't have to prove it. That's what happened, and you know it."

 

O'Neill narrowed his eyes and thwacked Daniel with the back of his hand. "Come on, Daniel. Help me out here."

 

"Uh, yeah." Daniel shook his head. "I tripped, remember? I couldn't see anything around the sand in my eyes."

 

Jack turned to stare his teammate, his expression annoyance mixed with betrayal. "Seriously?"

 

"What?" Daniel fished a fingerful of sand out of his ear. "Besides. My alarm just went off. Loran and I are supposed to be in the Light room for our dose."

 

"But we're not done yet!" Jack turned to Carter and Teal'c. "We can still play some catch, right?"

 

"I, too, must resign the game." Teal'c smiled gently. "It falls upon me to prepare this evening's meal."

 

O'Neill scowled. Palming the ball in one of his hands, he tapped it against his thigh. "Come on, Carter. You're having fun, right?"

 

The other three had already started back, and Sam glanced longingly towards the door. She could get a quick shower and then finish proofreading the second section, if she went in now.

 

But he looked so bereft. Like a child whose best friend had just rolled away in the cab of the U-Haul.

 

"Okay." She held her hand out for the ball. "Ten more minutes."

 

He lobbed it to her, his dark eyes catching hers in an easy, knowing grin. "Cool."

 

She followed him back out onto the field. "So, catch?"

 

"Sure." He veered off until he was around twenty feet away from her. "Catch is good."

 

She took a step backwards and threw a high, perfect spiral directly to him, which he caught handily. "Where'd you learn how to play football?"

 

She prepared herself to receive his throw. "Growing up. My older brother always had his friends over. Sometimes, if they needed to even out teams for a game, I got to play."

 

The Colonel tweaked a brow, then tossed her a quick pass. "They should have let you play more. You're good."

 

She hurled him back another high one. "I always liked it, but hey. Little sister, you know?"

 

He caught it and quickly chucked it back. But his throw went wide and ended up bouncing down the beach. He pointed. "You missed. Go get it."

 

"Actually, Sir." She watched the ball roll towards the surf, finally stopping when it bumped up against some seaweed. "You missed. _You_ go get it."

 

He sauntered across the sand in her direction. "Tired already?"

 

"Excuse me?" Sam watched as he canted a teasing look at her. "What are you saying, Sir?"

 

"Well, of the two of us, who's had more of an issue with a lack of stamina?"

 

Lifting a brow, she scoffed. "Hey. I've never had a problem with - "

 

"Oh, but I remember things differently."

 

"Where? When?"

 

He stepped closer, giving her a narrow, knowing look. Holding up his hand, he counted off on his fingers. "The mines, the _other_ mines. When you totally got addicted to some stupid light - "

 

"Whatever." She smiled. "I'm just as strong as you are."

 

"Ah, but you've got a weakness."

 

She rolled her eyes. "No, I don't."

 

"Really? Prove it." He gave her a challenging look, breaking into a run as soon as he'd passed her.

 

Swallowing a giggle, Sam sprinted after him. Down the dune, she chased him until she'd gotten close enough to grab his t-shirt. Wrenching him backward, she used the impetus to propel her forward, then shoved him behind her. She made three steps before his hand caught at her arm, stopping her as he rushed past. She growled then lurched after him.

 

He dodged her once, and then twice, leaping over a branch that had washed up on shore before sidestepping over another pile of debris. They were past the ball, but it didn't matter. This had gotten personal. Spinning on the firmer sand, he reached out as she neared, poking her in the ribs before she could evade his hands.

 

"No, you don't!" She dug into the sand with her toes, angling for his arm, but grasping the Colonel's wrist, instead. Yanking hard, she pulled him around slightly before tripping over a mass of seaweed and hitching headlong into him. He hadn't stabilized himself on the shifting sand, and he toppled, his arms tightening around her body as they fell.

 

She landed on top of him, her thighs straddling one of his, her torso pressed tightly against the expanse of his chest. Her arms had landed on either side of his body, his arms still encircling her. It took a moment for Sam to stop laughing long enough to catch her breath, and another moment to realize that she really shouldn't be this content to be perched on top of him - to be nestled against his body with such familiarity.

 

His hand made a lazy trail up her hip to rest on her lower back. "You okay?"

 

She felt his voice as well as heard it, the vibrations strong in the chest beneath her own. The temptation to stay right where she was - lying on top of this man - was unbelievably strong. It felt entirely too good to be where she was. With her entire being, she yearned to prolong the contact, to explore how much farther it would go, and how it would end. Especially since she already knew what was possible between them. The fulfillment she'd find there.

 

Sam summoned her strength and rolled to one side, sliding off the Colonel's body to land in the soft sand next to him. "Yeah. Sorry about that. I'm not sure - "

 

He waved off her apology, rubbing at his chest with his free hand. "It was my fault."

 

"No, Sir. I - "

 

"Oh, Carter." He grinned up at the sky, inhaling deeply. "Cut it out."

 

She sighed, aware suddenly that his arm was trapped between her ribs and the sand. Further aware that he hadn't made any move to pull himself free. She mused on that briefly as she followed his attention to the clouds above - darker than they'd been just a few moments before. Promising more rain. "I think our nice weather is about to change."

 

"I was just thinking the same thing."

 

"It was nice to get a break from the storm."

 

"It was. I really needed this." He looked over at her, his dark eyes reflecting the gray of skies. "The past two weeks have seemed interminable."

 

So close. He was _so_ close. They were too far from the walls they'd built, too far removed from the regulations that they'd clung to for so long. She passed a look over his features before nodding. "I know what you mean."

 

His hand shifted beneath her. "It was nice while it lasted."

 

Were they still talking about the weather? Sam turned, moving onto her side, somewhat surprised when O'Neill followed suit to face her. Balancing her head on her upturned fist, she studied his expression, while he simply looked at her. That's all he had to do, really. Sam had never been able to resist the thrall that this man had over her. Especially relaxed this way, far, far removed from the SGC, with anyone who might act as chaperone beyond the dunes, behind walls of stone.

 

She dragged her thoughts back from the brink. "Maybe we'd better go back in."

 

"So anxious to get away from me."

 

"No." Shaking her head, Sam raised her hand and brushed some sand from his cheek, her fingertips lingering too long. "Just feeling a little out of sorts. I don't know how else to explain it."

 

The corner of his mouth rose as he watched her search for the right words. "Feeling feelings?"

 

She looked away - across his body, down the beach to where the waves had started pounding with renewed vigor on the sand. Of course he'd know what she'd meant. "Something like that."

 

Restless. She'd been restless. Just being here with him had opened wounds that she'd thought were closed. Maybe that's why his meddling with her presentation had irked her so much - he'd been more than friendly - taking liberties that a normal working relationship couldn't afford. It had reminded her of the wanton disregard they'd had for rules while they'd been under the influence of the armbands. Even more so, it had been like existing under the ice city again, constantly in each other's presence, far removed from the daily reminders of Military duty and position. She'd fallen again, despite her best efforts. Despite steeling her heart against what she knew she couldn't have, she had been daydreaming - wishing for stupid things.

 

Stupid things like leaning forward and pressing her mouth to his - just to remember what it felt like when he tasted her back.

 

Jolting upright, she leapt to her feet, taking a few halting steps backwards even as she prepared to flee back into the relative safety of the Palace.

 

"Carter?" O'Neill lifted himself from the sand, sitting, then kneeling.

 

"I'm sorry, Sir." She wiped a hand across her cheek. Her fingers came away wet. Rain? Mist from the waves? It didn't matter. "I've got to go back to work."

 

And as she made her way up the dunes towards the building at the top, she suddenly realized what he'd been teasing her about. Her weakness. Her fatal flaw.

 

He'd known it all along what it was.

 

Because it was _him_.

 

 

\-------OOOOOOO---------

 

 

"Still mad?"

 

She sighed. Glancing up at him, she took another bite of whatever mystery casserole she'd heated up for her lunch. It had been a few days since she’d left him on the beach. This was the first time he’d sought her out, although she'd felt his eyes on her during mealtimes, or as they'd passed in the halls.

 

"Still mad."

 

Swallowing, Sam set her lunch down next to the pile of textbooks. "I wasn't mad, Sir."

 

"Annoyed?"

 

She pushed her shoulders back against the high, ornately-carved back of the chair she'd claimed as her own. "Not really."

 

"Peeved?"

 

Shaking her head, Sam allowed a tiny smile to touch her lips. "I'm not angry with you, Sir."

 

"Not even a little?"

 

She tilted her head to one side. "Well. Maybe a little."

 

"I'm sorry." He actually managed to look a tad contrite.

 

"Really?"

 

"Really." He splayed his hands out at his sides, as if in surrender. "I behaved badly, and took things too far, and for that I’m sorry."

 

She studied him for a little longer than necessary before inhaling deeply and sitting up taller in her chair. "So, you came in here to apologize?"

 

His hands dropped. "Pretty much.”

 

"And not just to bug me some more?"

 

He had the audacity to leer at her. "Come on, Carter. It's me. Bugging people is what I do."

 

"I'm running out of time, Sir." She narrowed a glare at him. "I really need to get this done before we finish our detox, so I could use some quality work time."

 

"Can I help you somehow?"

 

"I thought that's what you were doing before." Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

 

Slowly, he took a few steps towards the table, trying not to look too closely at the papers spread around it. "I don't do well just sitting around."

 

Leaning forward, Sam shuffled around a few papers before flicking a look upward at him. "Wow. Understatement."

 

"Anyway." He came around to where she was, stopping next to her chair. "Before this whole thing started, I was planning on taking some time off. Relaxing. Going up to my cabin and puttering around."

 

"Puttering?"

 

"You know, replacing some shingles, sanding the pier. Re-caulking."

 

"Caulk?"

 

"There are logs." He raised a shoulder. "Logs needing caulk. It's all kinds of rustic."

 

She rose to her feet, folding her arm across her torso. "I know you were disappointed to not get your vacation, Sir."

 

"Devastated."

 

“I’m sorry for that, Sir.”

 

“You know.” He reached out and fingered the highlighter that sat on top of her stack of index cards. “About what Daniel said the other day.”

 

“Sir, I really don’t – “

 

“So, we’re not going to talk about it?"

 

"We don't talk, do we?" Sam smiled, despite herself. "Isn't our usual MO to evade, deny, and ignore?"

 

"Ooooooo. Snarky." The Colonel exhaled heavily. "But understandable."

 

"You know." She started, then paused, finding her way in the messy thoughts roiling through her head. "It's not, really."

 

It took him a moment to answer. He picked up the highlighter and rolled it between his fingers for several beats before he looked over at her. "What are you talking about?"

 

"It's not understandable."

 

His jaw tensed, then released. "What, the attitude?"

 

She shook her head, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. "No, the situation."

 

He chucked the pen back onto the table. "What do you mean?"

 

"Us. This. All of it." She turned, facing away from the table, leaning her hips back against the workspace. "None of it."

 

"Carter - "

 

She angled her body towards him. "We don't make sense, Sir."

 

He didn't answer for a long, long time. When he did, his voice was careful, measured and even. "As team mates, or - "

 

"As anything."  She shifted, running her palm along the cool, smooth surface of the table. "Being on the same team. In the same command. In the same anything."

 

"Can I ask why?" His handsome face was hard, shuttered. He was concealing his true thoughts as well as if he'd lowered a veil.

 

"You could, Sir." Sighing, Sam smiled without humor. "But I'm not allowed to answer you."

 

"We're here, Sam. In this room, on this planet, inside this god-forsaken Palace. Who's going to hear us?"

 

The fact that he'd used her name wasn't lost on her. But she couldn't risk taking the bait. She shook her head, a wave of sadness shifting upwards through her. She took a step closer, lowering her voice even more. "It has to stop, Sir. We have to put the walls back up. Barriers, or something. I don't even know how to accomplish it, but it has to happen. We can't keep - being like this."

 

"Being what, friends?"

 

"Sir, don't be obtuse."

 

“Are you worried about what Daniel said?”

 

“It’s not just Daniel.”  She raised her eyes to his, struck again by how he always seemed to be able to see right through her. “Loran said something the other day.”

 

“What did he say?”

 

She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter, really. Nothing specific. Just something about how we reminded him of his parents. How they acted like we do.”

 

“And how is that?”  


“You know what I’m talking about. This – thing that we do.”

 

“What _exactly_ did he say, Carter?”

 

She bit her lip, hazarding a look up at him before back down at where their hands splayed closely together on the table. “He mentioned that his parents yearned for each other. That they hated being apart. That they did everything together. He said that we reminded him of that.”

 

“Yearned for - ” O’Neill’s brows rose as his eyes made a careful study of her features. “How is _that_ not specific?”

 

“That’s not the point.”

 

“It kind of is.”

 

“No.” Sam sighed. “It’s not.”

 

“Then what is the point?” He crossed his arms across his chest. “I mean – the point as you see it?”

 

She searched for the right words, aware that every ounce of his energy was focused on her at that moment. “We have to find a way to end this, don’t we? To _not_ be – this way with each other. We have to figure out a way to just get over it already. I can’t continue this. I can’t live in this weird half-life of being and _not_ being in lo— I mean, _involved_ with you.”

 

“But we’re not involved.” He lifted a hand to scratch at the stubble on his cheek. “Not in that way.”

 

“Really?” Her voice cracked. “Then what the hell was that the other day? What has all the grammar crap and stealing my index cards and teasing me been about? What was the 'feeling feelings’ stuff about? How can you bring up Jonah and Thera and still pretend that none of that actually existed?”

 

"I'm not pretending it didn’t happen, Carter." He glowered at her, his lips thin. "I just don't know how to do what you’re asking me to do. How do you just turn it all off? We are who we are, aren’t we?”

 

“Yes. We are.” Sam exhaled harshly. "Maybe that's the problem."

 

Hurt. He looked hurt. There was no other way she could describe it. His jaw worked for a moment before he nodded, pushing himself away from the table and striding around it towards the door.

 

“Sir.” She broke inside, watching him leave.   


He paused in the doorway, angling his head in her direction without really turning. “Don’t worry about it, Carter. I won’t be bugging you again.”

 

And she honestly couldn’t tell if it was relief or grief that seemed to swallow her whole.

 

 


	2. Part Two

 

**Light Shed**

**Part 2**

 

 

_There_ _’_ _s been debate over whether Daniel would know about the attraction between Jack and Sam. I think he would. After all, if Teal_ _’_ _c knows (as evidenced in_ _“_ _Grace_ _”_ _), then Daniel would, too, right? In the past, I_ _’_ _ve written scenes between Daniel and Sam or Jack where he references their relationship and some readers have sent messages questioning whether Daniel would even be cognizant of their relationship, let alone bring it up. I_ _’_ _m just throwing it out there that I think that Daniel probably isn_ _’_ _t a_ _“_ _shipper_ _”_ _, but he_ _’_ _s human, and would want his friends to be happy._

 

 

\-------OOOOOOO--------

 

 

"Hey, Sam." Daniel's head poked around the frame of her door. "You ready?"

 

"Yeah." She laid her pencil on the papers in front of her and walked around the table. She’d finally finished her presentation – a few days ahead of schedule.

 

Entering, Daniel set the box he carried on an unoccupied space of tabletop he found. "Just between you and me, I'm really ready for this exile to be over."

 

"You're telling me." Rolling back her sleeve, she exposed the tender skin of her inner arm. "I'm starting to feel like a pincushion."

 

Daniel donned his latex gloves and ripped open the little packet with its alcohol wipe. "But on a positive note, now we all know how to become vampires."

 

Sam watched as he wrapped the elastic band around her arm and thumped her vein. There was a tiny poke as he inserted the needle and drew the amount of blood Janet had requested be sent to her daily. "Or leeches."

 

Pressing a gauze pad to her arm, he withdrew the needle. "Well, only a few more days, right?"

 

"Four. But who's counting?"

 

"You mean, besides Jack?" Daniel spoke from around the pen lid that he'd clamped in the side of his mouth. The pen itself was being used to label the most recent vial of Sam's blood. Finished with writing, he placed the vial in the requisite container and then replaced the lid of the pen. "Seriously, Sam. That man is driving me nuts."

 

Clamping her mouth shut, Sam accepted the bandaid he'd handed her, applying it to the gauze. Removing the rubber tourniquet from her upper arm, she dropped it into the box carrying the rest of the supplies.

 

"I mean, we spend a lot of time together - a _lot_ of time between missions and briefing and prep-work. But the past few weeks have just seemed never ending."

 

"How's it coming with the translations?"

 

Closing his box, Daniel made a little juggling motion with his arms. "Who knows? As an archaeologist, I'd say that they're fascinating glimpses into this culture. Historians would be geeking out all over these writings. But they aren't really helpful to our cause, so I'm getting a little bored. Although there's some kind of freaky stuff on the walls of the Light room."

 

Leaning back against the table, Sam checked on the status of her needle-mark before looking back up at Daniel. "Freaky?"

 

"Freaky." Her friend grinned. "Dirty. Kinky. It's basically erotica. Loran won't even help me with those carvings, and even Teal'c is a little discomfited by them."

 

"So, the Goa'uld used that particular room as - " She cringed slightly before continuing. "A sex room?"

 

"I'm sure there was more to it than that, but my guess is that part of the effect that the Light had on the Goa'uld was sexual in nature."

 

"Did you tell Colonel O'Neill?"

 

Daniel snorted. "No. If I did that, he'd probably learn Goa'uld over night just so that he could translate those walls by himself."

 

"Come on, Daniel." She made one final swipe with the gauze pad before folding her sleeve back down. "He's not that bad."

 

"No, he's not.” Daniel tilted his head up, inhaling deeply. “I guess he's just getting on my nerves."

 

"Why?"

 

"He's bored." It had taken him a moment to come up with the right word. "There's nothing for him to do here, and he's restless. So, he's got all this energy and ability, and no focus. That kind of thing has always been bad for Jack."

 

"And, in turn, for you."

 

"He tends to fiddle." Daniel grinned. "You know what it's like. He's been in here annoying you, too, after all."

 

"That, he has." Sam canted her head downward.

 

"Aren't you sick of it, yet?"

 

"A little. He’s stopped, for the most part."

 

Daniel's look turned speculative. "Was that his choice or yours?"

 

“Neither.” She forced herself to sound casual. “He just found something else to do, I guess.”

 

“You don’t miss him, do you?” Daniel's cheek dimpled into a familiar smile. "Because I'll give him back, if you do."

 

“No.” Shaking her head, she frowned down at the box of vials on her table as she formed her next statement. “But, really, I didn’t mind all that much.”

 

“Because you like him.”

 

"Don't you?"

 

"As a friend, sure." Daniel's brow lifted. "But you and Jack - well, there's history there, right?"

 

Sam simply pressed her lips together as her shoulder rose.

 

"So, this must be doubly hard for you two." His voice had lowered to a near-whisper. "All this togetherness."

 

"Nothing has happened, Daniel." She lifted a hand to fiddle at a curl that was tickling the back of her ear. Stupid humidity. "We're professionals. Colleagues. That's all."

 

The sound Daniel made didn't even have a name. His face expressed his incredulity just as forcefully. "So, how is it living smack-dab in the middle in Denial?"

 

"Daniel - "

 

But he barreled past her. "I mean, seriously. You were practically joined at the hip in the mines beneath the ice, and I know that stuff happened there that Hammond doesn't know about. You two can't exist in the same room without being on the same side of the table, or standing next to each other, or sitting in adjacent chairs. And sometimes, it's way more obvious than you think it is."

 

Sam's attention snapped to his face.

 

"I'm just saying." His handsome face was completely open. "I love you both, even though Jack drives me to the brink of insanity on a regular basis. Still, I'd be ecstatic if things were different. For both of you."

 

Sam considered that. "Different how?"

 

"Different in a way that you both could be happy." Behind the lenses of his glasses, his piercing blue eyes were earnest. "I don't know what would be best. Apart, together, teammates, friends. Friends with benefits. I honestly have no idea. It's amazing what you two are able to accomplish as a team. And equally disconcerting just how much you're able to sublimate. It's kind of superhuman, if you ask me."

 

"We're not superhuman."

 

"Then what _are_ you?"

 

She scuffed the toe of her boot against some random dirt on the floor. It took her a moment to find her answer. "I'm kind of feeling more lost than anything else. And a little bit stupid that I can’t figure out what I want."

 

Daniel shook his head. "Well, if there's _anything_ that either of you are, it's not stupid."

 

"You're too kind."

 

"Well, anyway, there're only a few days left, right?" He captured her gaze meaningfully. "So, whatever, right?"

 

“Whatever?”

 

Daniel rolled his eyes. “Opportunities, Sam. There may be opportunities for you to figure things out.”

 

“I won’t do anything that puts the team - or our long-term mission - in jeopardy, Daniel.”

 

“Geez Louise, Sam.” His voice was little more than a whisper. “We’re only here for a few more days. Who knows when this kind of chance will come along again?”

 

She considered her next words carefully. "I'll be glad to get home."

 

"I'm pretty sure that we all will." Daniel picked up his box. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go suck some blood out of everyone else, and then chuck it through the 'Gate to Doctor Fraiser."

 

Sam nodded, glancing at her watch. "And it's just about time for me to hit the Light."

 

 

\--------OOOOOOOO-------

 

 

_She'd been sure it was a dream._

_Heat and sensation and the sleepy exultation of fulfillment. She'd stretched against him, then pulled him closer. His hands - his fingers - everywhere on her, his mouth nipping and teasing. She'd risen up to him, accepting his touches and returning them, turn for turn. Eyes closed, blind, she'd flown into the maelstrom of feeling and been buffeted by his palms, his lips, his body. And everywhere had been The Light, caressing them both like a lover, floating around them in ghostly bands, drowning them in glory._

_It had to have been a dream._

_Please, let it have been a dream._

 

 

Sam stirred, then sank back into that misty point between sleep and wakefulness. She was warm. Too warm, really, when the palace had proven to be a drafty place. Cold stone and bare windows, and that dank smell that always go funneled through the hallways by the winds rushing in off the ocean.

 

Smiling, she stretched slightly, a sated heaviness having invaded her body - a feeling she normally associated with – _oh, no._

_No, no, no._

 

She froze, her eyes squeezed tightly shut even as she took stock. She lay in a nest, of sorts, created from the cushions that had been left haphazardly around the place by previous addicts. She vaguely remembered having gathered a few together to sit on when she'd started her session in the Light Room. After as many weeks as they'd spent in the place, she knew just how hard the benches could get. She'd crossed her ankles and settled herself sitting upright, propped against the decoratively carved wood behind her, intending to be in and out before her alarm sounded.

 

Alarm. Sam touched her wrist, but her watch wasn't there. She didn't remember taking it off. Cracking her lids, she glared at her own bare wrist - as if it would tell her how it ended up that way. Taking stock, she concentrated on her immediate position. Comfortable, cozy, even, she lay in easy contentment. The silk of the cushions radiated her own body heat back at her. She didn't have to look down to know that nothing remained between her skin and the fabric of the pillows. She closed her eyes again, swallowing sharply, a tiny groan escaping her throat.

 

"You're awake."

 

Rolling over, she found the source of the voice. The Colonel sat a few yards away. He was on the floor, scooched up against one of the supportive arcs that surrounded the podium. Shirtless, his pants had been pulled on in haste - the button wasn't fastened. He'd balanced his elbows on his bent knees, his bare feet flat on the floor. He'd been wringing his black t-shirt into a knot and then back loose again - just for something to do. Biding his time until she woke up? Probably. The man wasn't physically capable of sitting still, unless it was mission-related. Carefully, she scooted upwards, the thin coverlet clutched against her chest.

 

He pursed his lips, nodding. "Yeah. I pretty much woke up the same way."

 

"Sir - I - " She lifted a hand to rub at her eyes. "What happened?"

 

His left brow rose high. "You don't remember?"

 

She stared down at the blanket covering her. It was a luminescent purple color, with embroidered flowers hidden amongst what looked like ribboned leafy vines. Beautiful. Opulent. Foreign.  She had absolutely no idea from where it had appeared. And as for other images flying through her mind - they'd been dreams, right? Random products of her subconscious. None of it had been real, even if it had seemed to be. Even if she wanted them to be. "I don't remember anything, Sir."

 

He sighed, scratching at a spot behind his right ear. His mumble didn't ring true. "Yeah. Neither do I."

 

"So, it's possible that nothing happened, right?" She was grasping at straws, her tone desperately optimistic. "I mean - it's possible, right?"

 

His expression turned skeptical. "Carter, I didn't wake up over here."

 

Sam's eyes closed again, her teeth worrying at her bottom lip.

 

"And I didn't wake up with my pants on."

 

"So, what are you saying?"

 

He shrugged. He'd tried for nonchalance, but the tense set of his jaw and neck betrayed his lie. "I'm saying that you snore, Major. And you have a tendency to wriggle in your sleep."

 

He'd teased her about the snoring before. How many times had they slept in close proximity over the years? He talked in his sleep - and sometimes more than talked. They all had their nightmares. It wasn't really something they discussed. But the other thing was new. "Wriggle?"

 

"Wriggling. Like a freaking puppy. You just kind of nestle in until you're comfy." His eyes narrowed. "It got awkward."

 

Groaning, Sam covered her face with her hands. "Oh."

 

"Other than that - who knows? I can't remember any more than coming into the room."

 

She couldn't help it - her eyes flickered towards the archway entry, relieved to find it empty. "It was my turn to detox."

 

"Mine, too."

 

"I set my alarm for fifteen minutes,"

 

"I'm at twenty, still. But then, I was more hooked than you."

 

"The automatic timer should have gone off." She'd rigged it herself, interfacing Earth technology with the podium in order to make sure that nobody got more of the Light than necessary.

 

"I don't know, Carter. When I woke up, the Light was off." He lifted a shoulder, canting his head. "And we were - yeah. Awkward."

 

She studied his face. "So, how long have we been in here?"

 

He'd already ascertained that information. His expression turned grim as he lifted his wrist, drawing her attention to his watch. "I'm not sure how long you've been in here, but I got here a few hours ago."

 

"So," she considered, canting her head to one side. "Long enough."

 

Unbelievably, he grinned. "Well, depends on your definition of 'enough', I suppose."

 

"Sir." She frequently found him amusing. This, however, wasn’t one of those times. Her tone indicated that fact. So did the glare she fixed on him.

 

His smile faded into a grimace. Heaving a deep breath, he shifted, lifting himself onto his feet. Shaking his head, he untangled his shirt with a flick of his wrist. "I don't know what to tell you, Carter. I don't have any more answers than you."

 

Sam ran a stiff hand through her hair, pulling her knees up towards her chest. "If the timer wasn't working, who turned the Light off?"

 

Jack pulled his shirt over his head, straightening it before responding. "I don't know that either, Major."

 

"So, it's possible that someone saw - something."

 

"Most likely."

 

For a long, long time, Sam just sat there, implications tearing through her mind like traffic on a busy freeway. Needing to find her focus, she forced herself to grasp one thing and bring it close. "How much longer do we have here, a few days?"

 

"Doctor Fraiser said three. Four, tops." He lifted the front of his shirt just long enough to button his pants. "Decreasing dosages five minutes per day seems to be doing the trick."

 

"Well, then, we'll keep our distance. We'll make sure that we're not alone together."

 

"Carter - "

 

Sam hugged her knees, unable to meet his eyes directly. "It'll be like it never happened. We can just - forget."

 

He was looking at her, studying her in a way he hadn't in ages. When he spoke, his voice was devoid of emotion. "Forget what?"

 

Cautiously, she looked up at him. "Exactly."

 

There was a long, long pause as their eyes locked - communicating without any words the precarious nature of the situation. Then O'Neill shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers and rocked back onto his heels. A measure of acceptance, of agreement punctuated his pose. He took a step towards the entryway, then paused.

 

The pillar loomed between them, like a wall. She could only see his a portion of his back and his shoulders over the top of the Light device. His jaw clenched once, then again before he opened his lips to suck in a breath. "You're sure?"

 

She had to be, didn't she? Anything else would be unacceptable. Still, her voice broke a little when she answered him. "Yes, Sir."

 

 

 

\-------OOOOOOO-------

 

 

"Sam!" Janet smiled, stepping backwards to open the door wider. "I wondered when you were going to come for your check up.”

 

“I had a few things that needed to be put away.” She walked into the doctor’s office, closing the door behind her. SG-1 had been back on Earth for several hours, now. “I thought you’d be busy with the others and figured I’d let them go first.”

 

“Well, let’s get you into a gown and we’ll do a full work up. I’ll have the nurse draw some labs.”

 

Sam nodded. “Okay.”

 

"So, where are you guys headed off to next?" Janet donned her lab coat and then picked up a clipboard. "I figured that, after luxuriating in a Palace by the sea for three weeks, you all would be raring for some high adventure."

 

"I'll be guest lecturing at the Academy for a few days." Sam reached out and ran her fingers along the back of a chair that sat near the office door. "Colonel O'Neill and Teal'c are going to be babysitting a team of scientists on some moon."

 

Janet smirked. "I'll bet they're looking forward to that."

 

"You have no idea." Sam snorted. “Actually, the Colonel doesn’t even know he’s going. He won’t be a happy camper when he finds out.”

 

"Well, I guess it can't all be fun and games."

 

"Mmmm." Sam nodded. "I guess. Sometimes, none of it is."

 

“You’re being a sour puss tonight.” Janet's eyes narrowed. "What's that about?"

 

"Nothing." Shrugging a little, Sam moved over to where Janet's monitor glowed on the cluttered office desk. While Janet herself was the model of efficiency, her organizational genius had not extended to her workspace. "What's this?"

 

"On the computer?" Janet opened the file folder on the clipboard in her hands, checking the data within before glancing over at the screen. "I was just finishing up some reports about your team and this last mission."

 

Sam leaned forward to study an incomplete chart on the monitor. Five different-colored lines started at various high points at the left side of the line graph, gradually making their way downward diagonally towards the opposite side. "So, what's this one?"

 

"The one that's onscreen now?" Squinting across the dim office, she thought about it briefly before answering. "That's dopamine levels."

 

"For us?"

 

"Yeah." Janet nodded. "You, the Colonel, Teal'c, Daniel, and Loran."

 

"Makes sense, since we all detoxed at the same time."

 

"The General thought it would be best just to include all the information on the same graph. Although, I'm rethinking that with the anomalies I found."

 

Sam frowned. "Anomalies?"

 

"Yeah." Her heels clicked on the concrete floor as she took a few steps in Sam’s direction. Trailing her fingers along the lines on-screen, she tapped a specific point on the graph. "Everybody's levels continued on the same downward arc until a few days before you all came back, when yours and the Colonel's took a little spike. I can't explain it. There's nothing in either of your mission reports to give any indication as to why."

 

Sam's breath caught in her chest for a moment. "Weird."

 

"I know." Janet nodded before raising one shoulder in a shrug. "I just didn't see the point of leaving you there for another day while the rest of the team came back, so I didn't mention it to the General. But needless to say, I'm grateful that you and O'Neill don't seem to have any lingering aftereffects of that spike."

 

"No." Sam fingered the edge of a manila folder that sat to the side of the computer keyboard. "We don't."

 

"Still. I'd like to know what caused it."

 

Sam was fairly certain that she wouldn't. Glancing over to where Janet was still scanning the folder on her clipboard, Carter lifted the corner of the folder, peeking at the paper within. It was lined, smaller than notebook paper, with rough edges that testified to its having been ripped out of a pad of some sort; probably one of those black and white composition books that Daniel favored. The writing was childish - rough and crude. So - _not_ notes made by O'Neill, Teal'c, or Daniel.

 

Loran. Sam hadn't been aware that Daniel had been teaching him to write. Apparently, the kid had been a very quick study.

 

_Daniel teach me words. We read pillars and walls. It is fun._

_Ocean makes big waves today. Much rain._

_Sam cooks good. Jack likes food. Teal'c likes food lots._

_I miss my mother and father._

 

_Jack is mostly funny._

 

Sam smiled, flipping the page back and looking at the next one. This handwriting was neater, but still blocky, the language stilted.

 

_I will live on Earth. They will find me a home._

_Will I have a new mother and father?_

_I will take my things with me. I will take my memories._

_Daniel asked the address to my old planet, but I don't remember it._

 

"Nosy Rosie." Janet had snuck up on her.

 

Sam closed the folder with a little 'fwip', grinning sheepishly. "I didn't realize Loran was learning to write."

 

"Daniel told me that he was trying to get him as ready as he could for school here." Janet handed Sam a neatly-folded hospital gown. "He and I have discussed the difficulties that Cassie had right after she came to live with me. We were hoping to avoid some of those for Loran."

 

"He's a nice kid." Sam glared down at the hospital robe. "I hope that we can sort something out for him."

 

"I'm sure they will." Janet reached out to retrieve the folder. She opened it, shuffling through the pages inside. "I haven't even read this all the way through. I'm supposed to transcribe it, but I really didn't see the point. It's all just random phrases. As if Daniel told him to write his most basic thoughts."

 

"I'm surprised at how much he improved."

 

"Obviously, he's smart." Janet turned to the first page, reading out loud. "'Ocean makes big waves today. Much rain.'"

 

"It rained constantly for the first two weeks. There was this huge storm and we ended up having to stay inside the entire time. He was a little freaked out by it." She grimaced. "I can't imagine him being a kid all alone there after his parents died."

 

"Listen to this one." Janet rolled her eyes just the tiniest bit. "'Someday I will be a man like Jack.'"

 

Sam smiled. "Loran followed the Colonel around whenever he wasn't working with Daniel. I think the kid viewed him as a big brother. He emulated him."

 

"That man usually has a following." Janet grunted. "Although, I'm not certain that the world could handle two of him."

 

Sam didn't answer, watching as her friend scanned a few more pages.

 

"Seriously, I don't think that there's a point in - " she stopped, her eyes narrowing. "Sam?"

 

"Yeah?"

 

"Did you read this one?"

 

"Which one?"

 

"It's from the last week you were there. Four days before you came back."

 

Sam went still, trepidation making its way down her spine like a waterfall of sleet. Her mouth formed the word before she could prepare her throat to speak it. "Oh?"

 

"'Jack and Sam are sleeping in the Light. Just like Mother and Father during the Yearning. I covered them with a blanket'."

 

Sam bit her lips together, staring down at the gown in her hand.

 

"'Yearning'?"

 

"I don't - "

 

"Because that sounds kind of like - "

 

Sam tilted her head downward, her eyes drifting closed. "Janet - please."

 

"Is there something you're not telling me?"

 

Sam clenched her teeth together, her hands wadding the fabric she held.

 

“What happened on that planet, Sam?”

 

Sam pressed her eyes closed. Tightly, as if she could retreat into her own mind and become invisible, or at least self-contained.

  
“Sam?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

"You don’t know? Or you don’t want to remember?" Closing the file, Janet placed it quietly on the table next to the computer monitor.

 

“Both, kind of."

 

"So, this report has some validity to it."

 

"What report?" Sam indicated the folder with a hapless wave. "It's ramblings. He's a kid. He doesn't understand."

 

"Four days before you guys returned." Fraiser threw a look across the room to where a toasters flew across her now-darkened computer screen. "That explains a few things about the dopamine spike."

 

Groaning, Carter rolled her eyes towards the ceiling.

 

Crossing to the door, Janet purposefully turned the lock before pivoting to fix Sam in her gaze. "So, I guess we have some talking to do."

 

"Talking as in 'officer to officer' or as friends?"

 

Janet's face softened. "Sam, I'm your friend first."

 

"Are you sure?"

 

"Of course, sweetie." Janet motioned towards the nuclear-fallout grade naugahyde couch that sat near the back wall of her office. As Sam lowered herself to a cushion, Janet pulled up her office chair and plunked herself down. "Come on. Sit. Tell me everything."

 

Sam fingered the gown still in her hands, playing with one of the odd side-ties that hadn't been captured within the folds of the little bundle. Taking a deep breath, she flicked a look at her friend before beginning. "It was normal, at least for us."

 

"Until it's _not_ normal."

 

"Right." Carter smiled ruefully. "It rained a lot, like I said, and the Colonel was bored, so he hung around with me a lot. I think he was more comfortable with me than with the others."

 

To her credit, Janet's only response was a tight nod.

 

"It wasn't - flirty - you know? It wasn't how it was in the mines under the ice. I thought we were just regular. Just us being us." Running her thumb along the outer trim of the robe, Sam lifted a single shoulder. "Then at dinner one night, Daniel mentioned something, and all of a sudden I noticed - things."

 

"Things?"

 

"Things. Looks. Interactions. Like I'd suddenly become aware of him again. Of everything that has happened in our past. And all of it just came back."

 

Janet wasn't able to engage her filter in time, and her thoughts emerged as words. "Came back? Had it ever really gone away?"

 

"No." Sam was determined to be honest. "No. It hasn't. But we've agreed. We _had_ agreed not to act on anything."

 

"Had?"

 

"Of course. We're on the same team. He's my CO. And for months now, there's been this - whatever - something. Something that's not allowed, and can't happen. And there was that whole damned Za'tarc thing, and then the mind stamp and you know the fallout from that, Janet."

 

"I was there, Sam." Janet leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs. "I ran the tests. Held your hand as we waited for the results."

 

"We may have to run those tests again."

 

Fraiser's intelligent eyes studied Sam's face as she absorbed that bit of information. "So - things happened."

 

Sam shook her head, inhaling deeply as she stared up at the institutional ceiling tiles. "I think so."

 

"You _think_ so?"

 

"Like I said, Janet." Sam shivered a little. "All of it came back. All of it. For whatever reason, he started annoying me. Or I just started getting irked at everything. Maybe it was me - maybe it was just the situation. But it was a hyper-awareness. Like every time he walked by, I wanted to crawl inside him. So, I was kind of bitchy to him - trying to get him to go away. We discussed it a little, but you know how that goes. We don't really communicate, you know? And then there was the incident on the beach - "

 

"What kind of incident?"

 

"Flirting. Or whatever. We were playing football with everyone, and then they had to go in. The Colonel and I stayed behind. We were both having fun, and it was easy to forget - protocol. It was really, _really_ easy."

 

"And did you - "

 

"No." That answer, at least, was firm. "Not then."

 

"So your relationship devolved back into what it has been in the past. All that attraction resurfaced."

 

Sam's nod was slow. "Yes. That day - the one Loran was talking about - I went into the Light room for my dose. I set the timer. I set the alarm on my watch. There was a system that we set up, to make sure that we didn't overdose and go backwards."

 

"Makes sense."

 

"Daniel had just taken my blood sample. He and I talked a little. He'd been the one to mention how obvious things had gotten. He doesn't understand that we can't be like normal people. Intellectually, he does - he's not an idiot. But he doesn't approve. He's critical, I guess."

 

"We _all_ care about the two of you."

 

Sam's eyes drifted shut for a moment. "I know. I _know_. But it simply _can't_ happen."

 

Janet dipped her head, her brows low. "Sam."

 

"So, I went in to take my turn in the Light, and I felt myself drift away." She stared down at the wad of fabric on her lap. "Usually, it's like time just stops. Like you're so enthralled with the beauty of the Light that you don't notice time passing. But this time, it was as if I'd fallen asleep and I was actually dreaming. Only, the dream was vivid, and tactile, and real. So damned real."

 

The doctor eyes grew wide, her fingertips rising to press at her lips.

 

"And then I woke up. The Light was off, but it wasn't like just coming out of the influence of it, like before. I'd _actually_ been sleeping. He was there, just watching me. He'd woken up before me."

 

"Did he remember what had happened?"

 

"I don't know. I think so." She faltered. "I really don't know for certain. We talked a little, and he left."

 

"Did you talk again afterwards?"

 

"No." Carter ran a stiff hand through her hair. "No. We decided to stay as far away from each other as possible until we could get home."

 

"So, basically, you chose to pretend it didn't happen."

 

"Because we really don't know that anything _did_ happen."

 

"Sam." Janet's voice was filled with disbelief. "You have to know how ridiculous that sounds. Besides. We have Loran's account of what happened afterwards. What he saw."

 

"Which has to disappear." She'd said it. Breathing deeply, Sam scooted forward on her seat, leaning over the gown still on her lap. "Janet. That file - Loran's journal - all of it - has to get lost."

 

For several tense moments, Janet simply looked at Sam, her expression inscrutable. Finally, she leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees, her pose mirroring Sam's. "Do you know what you're asking me?"

 

"I do." Barely a whisper, Sam's voice sounded small, almost pleading. "And I'm so sorry."

 

"This isn't just about you two anymore." Janet touched her fingertips to her forehead. "You're asking me to falsify mission reports."

 

"I know." Sam rose, tossing the muddled robe into a heap on the couch. "I know. But with everything else that's happened this year, this would just be the nail in our coffins. All those mission reports are passed to the higher ups - first in OIS and then to the Pentagon. Other people - people who don't understand the program, and don't know the Colonel and me - they review and they pass judgments. They discuss them. And there has already been too much that's happened. We could be court-martialed, Janet. We could be end up being dishonorably discharged. We'd lose everything."

 

"The same goes for me if it's discovered that I knowingly lied, Sam."

 

"Not lied, Janet." Sam shifted on her feet. "Lost a file."

 

"Splitting hairs, Sam."

 

Somewhere outside the office, an alarm sounded, and Janet glanced over her shoulder to see nurses running past her office window. Dragging her attention back to the Major, Fraiser frowned. "I'll think about it."

 

"Jan - "

 

The doctor turned on her smart little heels, hurrying in the direction of the commotion in the infirmary. Flicking the lock on the handle, she pulled the heavy door open. With a sigh, she paused, looking back at Sam. "I'll think about it."

 

 

 

\--------OOOOOOOO--------

 

She'd spent the night on base, staking a claim on one of the personal quarters set aside for officers. Her intention had been to work - starting the laborious process of transcribing her presentation into the computer, but after nearly an hour of simply sitting at her desk staring at her keyboard, she'd given up and headed to bed. Once there, she'd lain awake, thinking - fretting, before finally drifting off into a broken, disturbed sleep. When her alarm had sounded, she'd nearly cried.

 

After a quick shower, she'd dried her hair and dressed, then started towards the mess. She needed coffee, hot food. The halls were unusually quiet, but Sam wasn't going to complain. She didn't want to see other people anyway.

 

Rounding a curve in the hall, she headed towards where three corridors converged in this section, at which the elevator sat in the widest point of the junction. Voices made her pause, though, just at the last curve, and a quick glance around the corner made her cringe.

 

General Hammond stood with Janet, waiting for the carriage.

 

"So, we're done with this thing? They're all recovered?"

 

Janet nodded. "All of their dopamine levels and other vitals are back to normal, Sir."

 

There was a soft slide of footsteps behind her, and Sam craned her neck to see the Colonel come to a stop a few inches behind her. His breath was warm on her cheek as he leaned in and whispered, "Eavesdropping?"

 

Sam glared at him, pressed her index finger to her lips, and turned back towards the elevator.

 

Hammond was continuing. "Well, the debrief didn't seem to expose anything we need to be concerned about."

 

"No, Sir." Janet shook her head. "They're all completely back to normal."

 

"Good." The General nodded. "That's good news."

 

"Yes it is." The Doctor smiled in answer.

 

"Although, something Doctor Jackson said has been niggling at the back of my mind, Doctor Fraiser." The General ran his palm over the smooth dome of his crown. "He said that the boy - Loran - had been keeping a journal of sorts."

 

Behind her, the Colonel's body pressed against her as he asked, "What journal?"

 

Carter reached back and laid her hand on his side, shushing him by tightening her fingers just a bit.

 

Janet's answer was a careful, "Oh?"

 

"Daniel said that he'd included pages of it in his official mission reports that he'd given to you."

 

Janet frowned. "I'm sorry, Sir. I don't have those."

 

"Well, that's a shame." Hammond made a tiny movement of his shoulders that could have been a shrug. "Even though the journal technically wouldn't be part of the official mission report, I was hoping to hand those pages off to Bill Ochoa. He and his wife Patsy are going to be Loran's foster parents, and are anxious to learn more about him and his history."

 

"Ochoa." Fraiser pivoted on one sturdy heel. "Isn't he from the OSI?"

 

The elevator finally arrived with a muted 'ding', and both the General and Janet took a step towards the gray doors. "

 

"He's the lead investigator for the office." Hammond gestured towards Fraiser as the doors slid wide, ushering her into the carriage. "A stand-up guy. Nothing gets past him. He and his wife have been fostering teenagers for years. They had three daughters naturally, but they're all in college now. Loran will be their first intergalactic foster situation, though, and they were hoping to help him however they could."

 

"Well, I'm sorry, Sir." Fraiser watched as the General entered the car, allowing him to settle before reaching forward and pressing the button on the panel inside. "Perhaps that file's been lost."

 

"Maybe it'll turn up." As the doors began to slide shut, the General shrugged again. "You never know with things around here."

 

As the doors sealed, Sam turned halfway, so that her shoulders bumped up against the wall. The Colonel leaned sideways, propping himself up next to her. "So, journal?"

 

Sam nodded. "Daniel taught Loran to write things. He was a quick learner."

 

"And, that was bad?"

 

Ducking her chin, Sam sighed. "He saw things. On that morning. He was the one who brought the blanket."

 

"Ah." O'Neill looked down - at his feet? at her? - it didn't matter. "So, that file - "

 

"Would be awkward."  He was close. Like he'd been in the Palace, preparing that damned meal. Every cell in Sam's body seemed to reach for him - wanted to lean nearer to him. She stubbornly crossed her arms over her chest and stayed still.

 

"And is it really lost?"

 

"I don't know." Bouncing a little against the wall, she fixed her focus on a spot on the wall opposite her. An Air Force poster with a F-15 on it. The pilot was holding his helmet on his hip, grinning widely. Probably because he'd never asked a fellow officer to blatantly falsify documents. "I'm assuming Janet has it stuck somewhere."

 

"So, you talked with her."

 

"A little." Her voice sounded wispy. She hated that. "I had to, once she'd read what Loran wrote."

 

O'Neill didn't answer, but somehow, he'd gotten closer, so that his shoulder brushed hers against the wall.

 

"Anyway, Sir." She straightened a little, putting her hands back as if to push off from the wall. "It's been taken care of."

 

"For now."

 

"For good, I think." She turned to face him. "I hope."

 

He took in her expression, reading her like only he could. No matter what she did, he still had always known precisely what she was feeling, or needing. It was disconcerting for a woman as independent as Sam Carter to have someone around so much who knew her so completely - as if she were living her life inside out.

 

"How long until you know if - ?" Trailing off, his eyes flickered to her midsection.

 

There was no use pretending confusion as to his meaning. Sam shook her head. "It's highly unlikely, Sir, given the timing. I should know for certain within a day or so."

 

He'd been married. He wasn't ignorant. For a long, long moment, he simply stood next to her, perched there on the wall as if he intended to prop it up for the rest of the day. After a while, a rueful smile teased at the corner of his lips. "It happened, you know."

 

Nodding, Sam looked sideways at him. A warmth enveloped her fingers. Down between their bodies, out of the view of the corridor's security cameras, his hand had slid around hers, his thumb smoothing along the tender skin at the base of her thumb. She should have pulled away, but couldn't. "I know."

 

"It wasn't a dream."

 

"No."

 

"When did you figure it out?"

 

"Later that night." She twisted her arm slightly, so that her palm faced his. "Well, actually, I knew as soon as I woke up, but I didn't want to admit it. Or acknowledge it, or whatever. But later, when I went to bed, it was evident. I could just tell."

 

"Ah." O'Neill's fingers continued their slow ministrations. "I'd wondered."

 

"And you?"

 

"I never knew it wasn't real. I remembered - I remember - most of it."

 

"The one thing I don't know for sure is how it started."

 

He canted his head, his brows lifting. "That, I can't tell you. All of a sudden, I realized what was happening. And by then - well, by then it was pretty obvious that neither of us were stopping."

 

"Or wanting to."

 

"Or even capable of it."

 

"Daniel said he'd found writings on the walls indicating that the Light room had been used for - that kind of activity. So, maybe that was part of the intended use of the place all along. Along with the obvious narcotic-like effects of the Light, the rise in dopamine levels would tend to futz with the users' libidos."

 

He actually breathed a snorting kind of laugh. "Carter, you can't explain it away. And even if you could, I think that the history that we have kind of trumps all that scientific mumbo jumbo."

 

"Yeah." She threaded her fingers through his, clasping tightly. "You're probably right."

 

"Because I'd do it again." Low, bold, his voice shivered between them - less a statement than it was a promise. His grip on her fingers nearly hurt. "With or without that damned Light."

 

"Sir - "

 

"Wouldn't you?"

 

Simple. So simple, yet unceasingly complex, his question rested between them like a viper. Powerful, seductive, smooth, and destructive. Sam couldn't help but remember the feel of him, his taste, his touch. Couldn't help but be transported back to the room, that bench, and those cushions, and the heady mix of sensations that had been elicited by his hands and mouth and skin. And his hand - right now - so deliciously large and warm around hers, evoked memories of heat and strength and the feelings she'd had of being completely, totally, and utterly cherished.

 

She'd prayed for it to have been a dream - why? Because of repercussions. Because of regulation and duty and code - or so she'd thought. But now, she recognized that the reality of their experience had made it that much harder to keep the distance they needed between them. Like tasting the water again had made it doubly thirst-quenching. She wanted more - more feeling, more languor, just more. More _him_.

 

Still, that honesty hurt. Sam could hear it in her own voice as she answered around a hysterical little laugh. "Yes. I would."

 

"Because it was - just." His expression turned impossibly intimate. "Damn good."

 

"Beautiful."

 

They'd spoken at the same time, then smiled about it.

 

"Mmmmm." As if gathering all of his will, he groaned as he lurched upright, his hand suddenly leaving hers. Sighing, he turned, shuffling a bit backwards until he'd given them a few feet's worth of buffer. "I'd better go. I was supposed to meet Hammond in his office twenty minutes ago."

 

Profound loss. Emptiness. She felt _less_ than she had only a few moments before. "Okay."

 

His strides took him past her, his hand shoved deep into his pockets. A few steps from the elevator, he stopped and turned back to face her.

 

"Carter."

 

"Yes, Sir?"

 

"Nothing's changed, you know." He'd made a hasty visual recon to make sure they were still alone. And both of them knew that the cameras still weren't miked. To a casual observer, they were merely talking. Not saying things that mattered. His gaze intensified. "From the ice planet, to the Light place, to here. It's all the same, for me."

 

"I know." She had to make certain her face wouldn't betray her before answering further. "For me, too."

 

"And I know it'll be a while, yet." Pausing, his jaw pulsed briefly before he continued. "But we can wait, right?"

 

Sam's eyes slid closed in a slow, slow blink as memories suffused her entire body with a sudden, unbidden heat. She had to clear her throat before she could answer him. "Yeah. We can."

 

"All right." O'Neill nodded again, once. Decidedly. He took a few steps backwards, towards the elevator.  "Just making sure."

 

As if there had been a question. Dumbly, she nodded - giving what had to have been an odd, befuddled sort of smile - watching as he turned back towards the elevator.

 

Before he'd pushed the call button, the doors dinged open, and a smattering of SGC personnel emerged, flowing around the Colonel like water around a stone. By the time they'd all exited, the elevator was closing again, and she only caught a glimpse of the Colonel's face before the doors met completely.

 

He'd looked angry, and a little defeated. Lost. Aching.

 

The crowd dispersed, and Sam found herself alone. Alone with the footsteps of strangers echoing away from her. Standing alone with the smell, the feel, the heat of _him_ slowly disappearing. Appropriate, since everyone and everything always seemed to leave her.

 

Suddenly exhausted, she turned back towards the quarters she'd just left. She didn't have to be anywhere for hours, yet, she'd try the whole 'resting' thing again. Maybe this time, when her head hit the pillow, she'd actually be able to sleep.

 

And perhaps, if she were lucky, or blessed - or both - she'd dream.

**Author's Note:**

> I did actually work at a language tutoring center for two years during college. Jack's assertion holds true that Business majors and Science majors had the worst collective grammar skills was definitely my experience. Of course, that's only if you don't count all the students from California, who seemed to trump everyone else. (I still loved them all. Truly.) So, for what it's worth. Your mileage with this information may vary. ;)


End file.
